


Menasor's Meal

by AgentOHare



Series: G1 Vore [10]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Gen, Macro/Micro, Soft Vore, Vore, attempted digestion, combiner, nonfatal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-25 07:18:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14373699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentOHare/pseuds/AgentOHare
Summary: Yet another one of Starscream's brilliant plans to overthrow Megatron involves the Stunticons...





	Menasor's Meal

As usual, Starscream had an idea. 

 

Now whether this was a good idea or not at the time was up to debate, but to the Seeker it most assuredly was. As he strutted down the corridor, his wings were perked aloft, a visual cue to his arrogance. Of course, he’d have to drop the proud look in favor of a humbler one soon.

 

Why? Because he was almost at the Stunticon quarters. He rapped a blue knuckle against the cold iron door, making sure to look official when Drag Strip opened it.

 

“The frag you want, Starscream?”

 

Making sure not to scowl at the show of disrespect, Starscream answered his query.

 

“I have orders from Lord Megatron.” Primus, those words tasted so foul on his glossa. Drag Strip turned from the doorway.

 

“EY BOSS! EVERYONE! WE’VE GOT ORDERS!”

 

Drag Strip’s shouting resulted in the rest of the Stunticons being assembled in short order, some grumbling at being awoken at such an ungodly hour. Motormaster shoved past his underlings and stood towering over Starscream, arms crossed. Yep, he was in a Motormaster mood today. 

 

“Make it quick.”

 

Starscream would’ve lied about it, but he was a bit intimidated. Motormaster was not only one of the strongest Decepticons on the Nemesis, he was also one of the most volatile. He likely wouldn’t take bad news very well, which was why Starscream had to be careful. He straightened out and removed a (doctored) datapad from his subspace.

 

“As you all are aware, your results during the previous mission were ruled as unsatisfactory.”

 

It was true, though. Racing and terrorizing human motorists on the freeway instead of assisting the Constructicons with their excavation of Primus-knows-what certainly wasn’t the objective. Boy, was Megatron mad, promising to hurt them all good once he and Soundwave returned from their away mission.

 

“You have not received punishment for your behavior yet simply because Lord Megatron had other issues to attend to. But he has just sent me a message detailing your punishment. You are not to refuel in any way until Megatron himself declares that you can. Any attempts to refuel apart from Megatron’s orders will result in extra punishment being imparted to your leader, as he believes that leadership- hrk!”

 

Motormaster cut off Starscream’s rambling- and air- with a massive hand around his neck, lifting the jet off the ground and uncomfortably close to the Stunticon leader’s glare.

 

“ _ What _ .” Motormaster spat through grit denta. The other Stunticons instinctively backed off. They didn’t want their afts kicked today. Starscream squeaked.

 

“H-hey! Don’t shoot the messenger!” he held his hands up placatingly, wings lowered as a show of submission. Through some miracle of Primus, this seemed to convince Motormaster not to pummel him, rather the wall beside his head. 

 

“Get. OUT.” The semi growled as he withdrew his fist from the newly-created hole. Starscream was all too happy to comply.

 

\-----

 

The plan was working swimmingly. It had been about 21 hours since Starscream broke the “news” to the Stunticons, and they seemed to have bought it. During the normal refueling period, the Stunticons were nowhere to be found. Upon peeking through the cracked door to the Stunticons’ room, Starscream was greeted with the sight of four hacked-off Stunticons, grumbling in more ways than one.

 

“Of all the fragging fragtacious fraggery.” Drag Strip bemoaned. “I swear this punishment was made specifically to fuel Motormaster’s rage.”

 

“Don’t say fuel…” Breakdown murmured, a hand against his gurgling fuel tank. He was most certainly feeling the effects of the Stunticons’ punishment, but he didn’t dare complain about it.

 

“Calm down, Drag Strip.” Dead End drawled. “Why let something as insignificant as this bother you when we will all inevitably die someday?”

 

“Shut up, End.”

 

And shut up he did. Meanwhile in the corner, Wildrider was slumped against the wall, muttering crazily to himself. No surprise there. In the midst of his giggling, the Ferrari was interrupted by an angry growl from his midsection. Feeling so very empty inside, he crunched into a fetal position, letting out a sad whine. Fuel. He wanted fuel!

 

Starscream became aware of the sound of footsteps in the distance. He darted behind one of the random machines in the hall, just in time for a steaming Motormaster to round the corner and stomp into his quarters. Immediately, the room fell silent. Nobody wanted to make Motormaster’s mood worse. Well, in relative terms. When the semi slammed the door, an old ceiling panel was jarred loose and clattered at Starscream’s feet. He picked up the warped metal sheet and subspaced it to throw away later. The Seeker then turned around and strode back to his own quarters. There were more plans to be had, after all...

 

\---

 

Megatron was back. After four days, the leader of the Decepticons was met in an abandoned quarry by an entourage consisting of the Command Trine, the Constructicons (sans Hook, who was doing checkups), the Stunticons, and Astrotrain. Soundwave apparently had to linger behind for some extra recon. At the moment, the warlord was in the middle of some grand, droning speech. Starscream, among his trine, would usually have to fight to keep himself from nodding off. However, he had to be alert to put his plan into action. When the coast was clear, the air commander snuck a quick glance to the Stunticons a few rows away, retreating with a cruel grin.

 

Oh, if only you could see the sorry state the Stunticons were in now. Wildrider was shaking and bleary-eyed. Dead End was somehow even more listless than usual. Drag Strip tried to look tough, but his dim visor and unsteady stance told all. Breakdown… poor Breakdown whimpered every time he was hit by yet another stab of intense hunger. But Motormaster stood stock-still. Like Pit he was going to show weakness in front of anybody, starvation be damned. However, if one paid close attention to his faceplate, how his optic twitched every so often in response to his painfully churning stomach, then one could get a glimpse of the semi behind the facade.

 

If it hadn’t been for Megatron’s booming voice, the surrounding murmurs, and the screeching of the birds that lived on the rocks Starscream was sure that everybody would have noticed how loud the Stunticons’ tanks were growling. Every now and then, when they thought nobody was looking, they would sneak a hand and massage their empty bellies in a vain attempt to relieve the hunger pains. This instead provided stimulation to their fuel tanks and made them feel even hungrier.

 

So it was unsurprising that the Stunticons were all angry with Megatron. A few seeded lines courtesy of Starscream helped- “Oh, I’m sorry you have to deal with this. If I were Megatron, I wouldn’t starve my own men.” “Megatron is a fool to deprive some of his strongest soldiers of energy! What if they’re needed on a mission?” “Honestly, you work so hard. You at least deserve a decent meal, right?”

 

Now it was time to spring the trap. Starscream sent a private ping to Motormaster.

 

_ I just noticed that Hook isn’t here, so the Constructicons can’t form Devastator. Hey, remember when Devastator decided to devour those Autobots during the tower construction? _

 

At the word devour, Motormaster’s tank groaned.

 

_ What are you talking to me for? Megatron’s talking here! _

 

_ Yes, but I just got an idea. It’s no secret that I hate him with every fiber of my being. And after his punishment for you all, I’m sure you’re beginning to understand why. _

 

Motormaster snarled, feeling his tank churn and flip about. His facade was beginning to crack, and he looked almost pitiful beneath the shards. 

 

_ Shut up, Starworm. _

 

Starscream knew he had only a few buttons to press in order to get Motormaster to do his bidding. 

 

_ If I were leader, I wouldn’t stoop so low as to deny my men fuel. That’s a sign that he’s gone off the deep end, Motormaster. And now, he’s alone in a valley with no one but my trine, a headless Devastator and Astrotrain. _

 

_ What’re you getting at? _

 

_ I’m just saying that you have an opportunity here, Motormaster. There aren’t many witnesses here, not even Soundwave, and I’m certain Menasor could exterminate them all… _

 

Motormaster caught his drift, and in a hunger-induced lapse of judgement he pinged the plan to the other Stunticons. Not like they had a choice. 

 

At the rocky podium, Megatron continued to give his speech.

 

“And it is with extreme prejudice that we shall exterminate those accursed Autobots, once and for-”

 

“Stunticons, MERGE!”

 

With a quartet of snapping clicks, Menasor’s limbs joined his torso and the giant came online, optics smouldering with primal rage. His core ached so terribly from his components’ combined hunger. It felt as though he hadn’t eaten in weeks, and it physically sickened him. He managed to sway in Megatron’s direction and glare. 

 

“What is the meaning of this?” Megatron raised his fusion cannon. “I order you to stand down!”

 

“NO!” the combiner roared. “YOU STARVED ME! LET ME WASTE AWAY!”

 

“Of what madness do you speak!?”

 

This visibly angered Menasor. “DON’T PLAY DUMB WITH ME! YOU ORDERED ME TO STARVE! I’M SICK OF YOUR SLAG!”

 

Before Megatron could get in a reply, the combiner swept the flat side of his treelike sword across the expanse, whacking away the Constructicons and knocking them out. Astrotrain and the remainder of Starscream’s trine attempted to attack, but Menasor merely swatted them out of the air like flies.

 

Menasor gripped Megatron before he could react, crushing his fusion cannon and bringing him above his horned helm. He laughed, a grinding, cruel sound from his throat. The gunformer continued to thrash in Menasor’s fist, to no avail.

 

“Unhand me, you colossal brute!”

 

“SINCE THERE’S NO FUEL HERE...”

 

A loud, deep rumble came from Menasor’s abdomen for emphasis. He looked Megatron straight in the optic, mouth watering in anticipation for the next part.

 

“ _ YOU’LL _ JUST HAVE TO TAKE ITS PLACE!”

 

Menasor opened his mouth wide, Megatron dangling precariously from his fingers. The hot, rank breath hit Megatron like a heatwave, and pools of saliva glittered off of Menasor’s gunmetal-gray glossa. Rocklike denta jutted out from Menasor’s jaw, shiny and glistening. Made for crushing.

 

The combiner chuckled horribly again. “AAAAAAH~”

 

Megatron began to slip from the fingers.

 

“N-no! Menaso-”

 

Megatron’s shouts were cut off as Menasor dropped him into his maw. He hit the damp, outstretched glossa and was lifted past the denta. The mouth closed behind Megatron, plunging him into darkness. It was wet, hot, and smelled like death. Strands of saliva dripped upon the hapless warlord. He shuddered in disgust. In response, the glossa jerked to life. It tossed and rolled him about, probing him for flavor and coating him in slippery drool. It pushed him against the roof of the mouth, smothering him with the palate.

 

On the outside, Starscream watched with glee as Menasor savoured his morsel. The combiner looked somewhat happier, clearly enjoying Megatron’s taste. After a minute or so, the combiner stopped and tipped his head back. The Seeker couldn’t contain his excitement. This was the moment he’d been waiting for- the moment when his plan came to fruition.

 

With a hearty gulp, the mouthful was pushed into Menasor’s waiting throat. Megatron always figured that if he were eaten alive by a Rock Lord or something like that, he’d splay his limbs in the throat, getting himself stuck and forcing the beast to cough him up. Reality was different. The esophageal tube was holding him in a death hug, so movement of the arms or legs was impossible. Megatron could only wriggle helplessly as he was drawn in deeper and deeper…

 

“YES!” Starscream cheered as he watched the bulge in Menasor’s throat descend past his collar. 

 

Megatron was carried by the constricting mechanisms, all the way to a great valve that irised open for him to be squeezed through. He was dropped rather roughly into a pulsating space. Hot, wet and dark, the constant contractions of the tank’s walls made it difficult for him to regain his footing, leaving him to stay in the slimy pit he was thrust into.

 

Menasor felt the relief as soon as Megatron reached his gurgling stomach, licking his lips for the very last traces of flavor. He rubbed his now occupied belly, feeling the slight vibrations Megatron’s struggling produced. It felt so good to eat after being denied fuel for so long. Serves Megatron right for making him so hungry. Heh, he could even hear him shouting from the inside.

 

“WHY’RE YOU SHOUTING”? He chuckled. “YOU’RE FUEL NOW. FUEL DON’T TALK.”

 

“Release me immediately!”

 

“NO. YOU GAVE THE ORDER TO STARVE ME. SO YOU’RE GONNA MAKE UP FOR ALL THOSE DAYS OF HUNGER.”

 

“I did no such thing, you gargantuan oaf!”

 

“STARSCREAM GAVE ORDERS FROM YOU.”

 

“He lied, you buffoon! He used you!”

 

Menasor turned to Starscream, optics filled with fury upon realizing he’d been had. The Seeker cowered under his glare.

 

“M-Menasor. Heh, I-I’m sure we can talk about this!”

 

Starscream was snatched and brought to meet a seething Menasor’s optics.

 

“YOU  _ TRICKED _ ME. WE STARVED FOR  _ NOTHING! _ ” he roared.

 

“Wait! I can explain!” 

 

“I’D  _ LOVE _ TO HEAR IT. I’M SURE  _ MEGATRON  _ WOULD TOO.”

 

Starscream’s optics widened in horror, realizing the implications.

 

“You already got to eat!” he shrieked.

 

“I’M STILL  _ HUNGRY _ .”

 

And then Starscream was tossed into Menasor’s mouth. He was quickly subjected to the same smothering treatment that Megatron was. His wings restricted, he was prodded every which way by the glossa, large enough for a bot like him to lie down on. It was absolutely disgusting, but worlds better than what Menasor had in store for him. His breath was uncomfortably hot, and the liquid pooling in the mouth made Starscream feel like he was boiling.

 

Liquid? Oh no.

 

_ *glk!* _

 

And then he was swallowed, wings pinned back so as not to get caught. The aerodynamic shape all Seekers had did him no favors here, as it only ensured he’d go down smoothly. His screams were muffled by the layers of metal around him.

 

Before long, Starscream was deposited into Menasor’s fuel tank. He shuddered. Being a flier, he was instinctually claustrophobic, and Menasor’s fuel tank certainly did not give him much room to work with. That was the least of his worries, however. The darkness of the fuel tank was illuminated only by the crimson glow of Megatron’s optics, narrowed with fury.

 

Naturally, Starscream cowered.

 

“L-lord Megatron, wait-!”

 

Feeling full and satisfied, Menasor showed his appreciation for the meal with a deep belch. Patting his belly, he sat down and reclined against the rocky wall of the quarry, letting his (limited) thoughts drift. He really did like the feeling of prey struggling inside of him, he discovered. Said feeling multiplied when Megatron began beating the everloving slag out of Starscream.

 

“MMM… YOU BOTH WERE DELICIOUS.”

 

Soon, Menasor grew bored with listening to Megatron's ranting. He decided to power down for a well-earned nap (in his opinion). 

 

The warlord heard Menasor’s snoring, and in a fit of rage threw another punch at Starscream. The Seeker ducked out of the way, and Megatron's fist impacted the tank wall.

 

“ACK!”

 

Megatron withdrew his hand from the tank walls with a hiss. It  _ burned _ . The walls, he noticed, were starting to ooze a peculiar liquid...

 

“Solvent!” Starscream cried, aghast. “We’re going to be digested!”

 

“Not if we have anything to say about it!” Megatron declared. “Do you have anything that could potentially be used to get us out of here?”

 

Starscream scrolled through his subspace. Nothing but a few odds and ends, a few crowns… and the ceiling panel. He presented it to Megatron.

 

“Perhaps we can fashion this into a weapon of some sort.”

 

Megatron took the metal panel and tore it in half, creating a jagged edge. Without hesitation, he took his half and raked it across the wall.

 

Menasor’s systems jolted back online, feeling a horrible pain spark in his belly. He gingerly touched his abdomen, as if asking it what was wrong.

 

Starscream watched Megatron claw at the vulnerable protoform and quickly followed suit with his own piece. He plunged the edge into the wall and yanked it down hard.

 

The combiner groaned in pain. What was going on in there? 

 

“HEY, CUT IT OUT!”

 

“Or what, Menasor? You'll eat us? Oh  _ wait _ .” Starscream laughed hysterically.

 

“Release us or suffer the consequences.” came Megatron’s comandeering tone.

 

“YOU THINK A LITTLE TANK ACHE’S GONNA STOP ME?” Menasor laughed. “DO YOUR WORST! I DON’T CARE!”

 

Menasor  _ immediately  _ regretted saying that.

 

Megatron and Starscream increased their onslaught, bloodying the gashes in the tank. Digestive solvent splashed into the open wounds, sizzling on contact.  _ That _ was gonna form ulcers later.

 

Menasor howled in agony, clutching his aching chassis. His tank twitched and lurched, sending its occupants tumbling about.

 

Eventually, he could take no more. The tank heaved and constricted its contents. In one motion, Megatron and Starscream were ejected from Menasor's stomach and sent speeding up the intake.

 

The duo soon found themselves colliding with the ground, splashing in a pool of Menasor's internal energon. Inside, the combiner bled and bled. Too weak to take out his pain and anger on his superiors, Menasor terminated the gestalt link, and the individual Stunticons fell in a jumble.

 

Motormaster lay unconscious, energon streaming out of the corner of his mouth. The others looked like slag, but were otherwise okay. Luckily, the Constructicons had come to by then, and Hook was able to examine them all. Motormaster required surgery. However, the other Stunticons were each handed a cube of med grade and sent on their merry way. 

  
Megatron would decide  _ their _ punishment later. Or, perhaps… This whole ordeal was punishment enough.


End file.
